


Bad News on the Doorstep

by AdoxographicRamblings



Series: American Pie !Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Falling Angels, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Pining, hinted dean/cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdoxographicRamblings/pseuds/AdoxographicRamblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has well and truly fallen and must try and make his way to civilization. As he trudges through the Colorado woods  he has nothing else to do but reflect on his wrongs, and on his new human emotion. And all the ways he's hurt Dean. All the while Castiel is plagued by one question.<br/>Could Dean ever forgive him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad News on the Doorstep

_I couldn’t take one more step_

He had spent the past 26 or so hours wandering, and Castiel was still unsure what the most disconcerting part about a human existence was.

 

He thought maybe it was a tie between exhaustion, the desperate need for sleep and the raw feeling of absolute hunger.

 

He hadn’t quite decided which was worse. So instead he choose to pretend he wasn’t affect by either.

 

He felt so strange in this now human body. Though he’d inhabited it for many years, it suddenly felt uncomfortably alien. Though Castiel couldn’t quite place exactly what made him feel so off, he still felt himself trembling. Perhaps it was a mix of everything that happened.

 

Jimmy Novak had been gone for quite a while, so it wasn’t being alone in his vessel, no not vessel Castiel, his _body_ , which felt so strange. Nor was it the lack of the host, singing and sighing in the back of his mind. Though Castiel did occasionally heard the cries of a host-less angel. He supposed that as an ex-angel he would make the perfect vessel but he ignored their cries as he pushed forward.

 

He missed Jimmy.

 

But no, it was not the emptiness of his own mind. Perhaps it was that now when he hurt, he _felt_ it. It wasn’t the far off pain he could ignore and fix with a thought. Every cut, every bruise, it had become like a sharp sting to his core. The chill of the air caused his skin to pimple up and shiver, even the uneven earth beneath his feat causing him to trip. It was all so new and overwhelming. He knew that he’d experienced true pain as an angel, like during his “re-education” or the time spent under Naomi’s ministrations, but then he as least knew when it would end. That he could put himself right when it was over. It was a comfort he no longer could enjoy.  

 

For the first time in his long, long existence, Castiel wanted to cry.

 

And that was the other thing. In addition to physical senses, his emotions were now heightened in a way that very nearly brought Castiel to his knees.

 

He had first really begun to gain some semblance of emotion when he’d followed Dean and nearly fell the first time. Anger, friendship, happiness. They all came in tiny waves. But even in his darkest moments, when he was very nearly human, these emotions had been muted, like he had been wearing a very heavy coat in a light rain. Amazing for an angel, yes, but not nearly the intense feeling he was currently trying to navigate. Then Castiel in all his naivety had no idea what true emotion was.   

 

Now, new emotions came unto him like tidal wave after tidal wave forcing Castiel into a maelstrom of suffering and Castiel was drowning.

 

Thinking on the Winchester brothers made these emotions so very much worse. His thoughts went initially to Dean, as they always did. Perhaps it was unfair to the younger Winchester, but Castiel’s loyalty and friendship went to the elder brother first. It had been Dean who had broken his bonds to an unyielding, unloving God and cruel, unforgiving host.

 

And even though it would ended up in more heartache and pain then Castiel, in all his heavenly glory, could have ever predicted, he would never be more thankful to someone as he was to Dean. 

 

He knew Dean would be angry with him. He had avoided the man since that fateful day in the crypt. Castiel felt an ache he hadn’t yet found the words for when he thought too long on that day. Dean on his knees, begging Castiel to stop, “we’re family Cas” “I need you.”

 

Dean’s words, they had broken Naomi’s connection on Castiel, but as soon as he healed Dean he’d fled.

 

He hadn’t lied when he told Dean that he felt he should protect the tablet from him. Castiel had truly felt that was inexplicably true.

 

But that wasn’t the whole truth.

 

If Castiel were honest, really honest with himself, he was scared to face Dean. He would have kept hitting Dean and hitting Dean until the hunter could no longer move. Had the connection not broke, Castiel would have killed him.

 

How could Castiel even begin to apologies when, it felt to him, he had asked Dean’s forgiveness again and again and again? Especially when each sin Castiel had wrought against the hunter had been atrocious then the last. No, he had hurt his friend too many times for that. If Castiel couldn’t even face himself, how could he expect Dean to face him?

 

Castiel wasn’t even sure Dean would call him his friend now.

 

But even if Dean did forgive Castiel, a hope Castiel had no right to entertain yet still did, he would still need Castiel to explain.

 

Castiel wasn’t sure he could do that either.

 

Being pulled from Purgatory, the lobotomies, the pain. He had broken. Naomi had told him he’d been wiped clean many times, that he had taken part in many atrocities over the years, bringing plight and plague unto innocent people.

 

He had murdered children.

 

Castiel had to sit down or he was going to be sick. He couldn’t take another step it was just too much.

 

He looked around the forest he was currently navigating and spied a fallen tree among the foliage. He stumbled over to it and sat in the dirt, leaning his aching body against the log.

 

He had always sort of thought himself a good being. He had tried his best to be kind and forgiving and everything the human prophets had said his Father was. And then, the closer Castiel became to the Winchester, the more he tried to take on Dean’s ideals of being good, helping people, never hurting the ones you cared for. Protecting those you loved.

 

Castiel wondered just where he had taken such a horrendous turn.

 

Castiel looked up at the dark sky where the angels continued to fall. There we less of them now, shooting across the sky like meteorites, but it was not less terrible to watch. It had a sort of horrific beauty like stars falling. He supposed it was like stars were falling in a way.

 

He needed to find Dean.

 

Even if Dean wouldn’t forgive him, even if Dean chose to end Castiel then and there, Castiel could at least say he was sorry, so very sorry. For every bit of pain brought unto the Winchesters by and because of him. And he could explain to Dean what an honor, a true honor it had been to fight by Dean’s side, to consider Dean a friend.  

 

Even if the friendship had been one-sided at the end.  

 

He could explain what little he’d understood of Metatron’s spell so that Dean and Sam might have some idea of where to start to try and fix things. And then if Dean told him to go, he would. Castiel would leave, and never come back.  

 

Castiel resisted once again the urge to weep. He’d fallen in every meaning of the word, what little pride left was all he’d had.

 

But then again where had pride ever gotten him but in a deeper, more despairing hole. Pride surely did go before a fall.  

 

Castiel laughed at that, though it felt more like a sob.

 

He couldn’t believe Metatron had tricked him so easily. He had played on Castiel’s need to make up for the Leviathan, for all the agony Castiel had brought to his family and to his friends.

 

Castiel sighed and leaned back on the remnants of the tree. As he looked around at the broken moonlight of the forest he felt as though he could sit in the peace of this forest until he wasted away. But he knew that wasn’t an option. He’d done this to himself, and Castiel owed whatever he had left to try and fix it. He had to get up, to find a phone, and call Dean and Sam.

 

 

For the first time Castiel let his thoughts fall on the younger Winchester. He and Sam had had their ups and downs over the years. Castiel knew he was mostly to blame for that. He’d seen the light in Sam’s eyes when he’d first looked upon the angels. After hunting monsters for so many years, Castiel had felt the joy rolling off the young man at the thought of the kind and beautiful beings of biblical lore actually existing. Castiel felt a twinge in his heart when he looked back on how easily he’d crushed it. Called Sam a demon, weak, and abomination. And sure, Castiel had dragged him out of hell, but in his arrogance had managed to leave a pretty vital part down in the pit.

 

The only soul Castiel had ever seen shine nearly as brightly as Dean’s was Sam’s.

 

Then, if he hadn’t wronged the younger Winchester enough, he’d broken down Death’s walls, let him rot in insanity, nearly let Sam die of exhaustion, just so he could become a “better God.”

 

Castiel laughed bitterly at the memory, now so sharp and full of pain in his newly mortal mind.

 

Castiel truly hoped Sam was ok. He was unsure about the final trial, but he had a bad feeling in his gut that told him it had gone south. But he hoped Sam wasn’t dead. The mere idea made him want to whine and so Castiel pushed it out of his thoughts.

 

“Sam and Dean will be alright.” Castiel assured himself and any nearby woodland creatures who might be listening, “They are probably headed back to the bunker right now. They just need to stay put for a few days wait till this all blows over.”

 

If it ever blew over.

 

With the thought of his boys, for they had become “his boys” many years ago, the ex-seraph forced himself up off the damp ground. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, he’d hoped Metatron had at least dropped him in the United States, but he was still in what direction he should head. The tall pines surrounded him were reminiscent of North American landscapes and Castiel had been using his knowledge of the star and had been moving north for the past two hours, but without any idea of how spacious these woods were, he could be headed away from civilization for all he knew. He prayed to a Father he wasn’t sure was listening that he’d come across a road sometime soon. If he found a road, he could find a town. And if he found a town he could find a phone.

 

Castiel shivered as he continued north. For the first time since he chose Jimmy as his vessel he wished he’d put the man in better clothing. The suit, tie and trench coat had been in Jimmy closet when Castiel possessed him and they had please him for some reason. Well more than the vest and slacks Jimmy had been wearing at the time. The choosing of Jimmy as vessel hadn’t really been his decision. Uriel has suggested the reverent man and Castiel had simply gone along with it. He hadn’t really given a thought to what he’d looked like. Nor had he really cared. But the clothing? That had been Castiel first real personal decision in his long life. He still didn’t know why he’d chosen the clothes he did, but it was the first step into a spiral of epic proportions.

 

Even so, Castiel had grown fond of the stupid khaki trench coat over the years. It was something Dean and Sam had come to associate him with. And then Dean had kept it after Castiel’s last ditch attempt to control the Leviathan at the reservoir.

 

Even at his maddest, sitting in the mental hospital, just wasting, Castiel’s broken mind remembered that Dean still cared. Dean had saved his jacket, so Castiel must be forgiven.

 

When his brother Lucifer’s voice grew too loud to ignore, Castiel would grasp at the jacket like a safety blanket. He’d hold onto the thought that Dean still cared, if only a little bit. That even with the pain Castiel had caused to the boys, Dean had saved it, and would come back to save Castiel as soon as he had the chance.

 

Even more then Meg’s friendship (the thought of the dead demon pulled at Castiel’s heart as well,) that idea and that stupid brown jacket had helped him retain what little sanity he had left.

 

But now, in this freezing night, Castiel couldn’t help but scowl at the beloved jacket. It was more for rain then blistering cold, and at that moment Castiel would have given anything for one of the warm flannel shirts Dean wore.

 

Maybe if he asked Dean would let him borrow one. Castiel was human now, and he’d need more than one change of clothing. The idea that Dean might not even want to see him once again entered Castiel’s mind but he pushed it to a corner. Just like with the jacket, the thought of Dean’s possible forgiveness spurred Castiel on.  

 

Castiel stumbled over fallen branches and dampened moss covered ground as he went, feeling all to light in the human body. The comforting, solid weight of his wings was gone and while he knew how gravity worked, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was moments from floating away.

 

The smell of petrichor and moss filled Castiel nose as he continued his trek. The scent of rain was a small comfort, it reminded him of heaven, and he closed his eyes for a moments and breathed in deeply.

 

He wondered briefly again what had become of the many-thousands of already fallen angels, for he felt as though there were a continents worth in the nine fold celestial hierarchy. How many had died in the fall, how many were injured, scared, alone?

 

Castiel knew he’d no longer be able to continue if he dwelled too much on the other at the moment but he couldn’t quite stop himself. For the first time in his life he really understood the love between Sam and Dean. The angles were his brothers of the same and Castiel, not for the first time, wished that he too, had an older brother in which to turn. For the first time, in a very long time, Castiel wished for the guidance of an Archangel, the only beings in the hierarchy higher than the seraph. He knew that for all their wisdom and power they weren’t perfect by any means. Lucifer had fallen, Michael had become a demon in his own right, as had Raphael, and Gabriel, Zadakiel, Raguel, and Oriphie had all perished at the Morningstar’s hands. But even with the knowledge of their oh so real faults, Castiel couldn't help but missed them.

 

Castiel missed Gabriel most of all. Missed him in such a way he now understood Sam plight when Dean had gone to the pit. But now that he could truly appreciate what having an older, wiser brother felt like, all the archangels were dead. Castiel had no true family left to turn to.

 

Well, except the Winchester, if they would have him.

 

‘If he could even call them family.

 

His thoughts turned once more to the green eyed hunter. His voice ruff and comforting. The constant smell of whisky, gun powder and the leather of the Impala that followed the man everywhere he went. The tiny twinge of happiness the nickname “Cas” left the ex-angel with.  

 

Dean’s smile, rare as it was beautiful.

 

Castiel felt his stomach warm at the thought. There was an emotion sitting in the back of his brain, weighing on his chest, which Castiel hadn’t yet discovered at name for. It filled his whole being when he thought of the hunter now. He supposed he’d felt it as an angel, but then it was the same muted feeling of all his emotions.

 

Here, now, as a human? The feeling threated to take Castiel over if he’d let it.

 

It left him feeling so warm that perhaps he might.

 

Maybe when Castiel saw Dean, he could tell him what it was…if Dean would even talk to Castiel at all.     

 

Castiel realized he’d begun to dwell again so instead he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The sun had started to rise, and Castiel could see the starting of a beautiful sunrise dappling between the trees.

 

Sunrises had been one of his favorite parts of being on Earth. The sun and the stars just didn’t look the same in heaven as they did on the small blue planet. They’d held none of the grandeur. Now that he was human, the stars had made him feel small in a new and terrifying way. But they were still so achingly beautiful.

 

Castiel stopped suddenly, listening to the sound of the surrounding woods. He had thought that he’d heard-

 

-there is was again. A car! He must be close to a road.

 

A second wind hit Castiel as he fought to follow the fading sounds of the car echoing slightly thought the trees. He could just barely see a clearing to the right of where he’d been walking and headed towards it.

 

Suddenly the earth beneath his dress shoes became much harder and sounder. Looking down Castiel saw the cement and asphalt of a small mountain road. Nodding slightly to himself he caught a glimpse of taillights heading east up the road to the right of him.  

 

Castiel took a breath, and turning towards the fading lights, started to run.  


End file.
